


Honour Over Glory

by Briar_Rose_Bramble



Series: Honour Bound [2]
Category: Eragon (2006), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anyelle, Durzelle - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briar_Rose_Bramble/pseuds/Briar_Rose_Bramble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of Honour Bound in response to prompts from Tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Suchadearie prompted: _Belle makes a mistake and asks something of him that results in a situation she can’t control. What will Durza do?_

* * *

 

When Belle woke, she was alone, cold and in desperate need of the chamber pot that rested beneath her wide bed. While being alone was conducive to such activities, the cold in her room persuaded her to burrow further under the rumpled blankets until the ache in her bladder became too pronounced to ignore.

It was only after, when she had scurried to the low dressing table and cracked the ice filming the water in the jug, pouring it into the wide porcelain bowl and completing her rather haphazard ablutions, that Belle began to wonder about the bitter cold. She reached beneath the covers to retrieve her underthings – hastily shoved into the bed to absorb some of the fast fading warmth while she washed – and pulled them on before heading to the heavy old oak wardrobe that housed the few dresses she had brought from Avonlea.

The door swung open with a familiar groan of unoiled hinges.

Finding it empty, Belle resolutely struggled into her heavy wedding gown, finding herself grateful for the cumbersome layers that had plagued her the day before. The skirt was badly creased and she could only half lace the bodice by herself

The ashes of last night's fire were cold in the grate and her clothes were still in the capital along with her family. There was no tray of breakfast waiting on the table.

"Durza?" she called.

There was no answer save for the howling of the wind.

Those had been the king's orders.

"Is there a way for you to know if I am calling you, even if you cannot hear me?"

Durza did not reply, but stared at her with cold blue eyes.

"Answer me," Belle demanded. "Truthfully."

"There's a way."

"I want you to come when I call for you." When his face remained impassive, Belle reconsidered her words. "You will come when I call for you. When I call," she clarified, remembering how easily Durza had subverted so many of King George's commands. "Unless to do so would endanger me," she added, hoping that she wasn't leaving herself wide open to the Shade's ability to find loopholes. "Or my plans."

"Your plans," he echoed. "Perhaps you should let me know what they are, so that I might not endanger them."

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" he strode towards her and Belle fought the urge to shrink back in fear. She had control of him, but only the flimsiest hold on the reigns. It was rather like holding a tiger by the tail – each time she tightened her hold, the chance of being burned grew greater.

"I mean to ensure that my family and friends are safe. King George cannot be allowed to hold so much power that it threatens to cripple the land. I want to end the wars."

"How will you ensure King George will do as you wish? Do you mean to kill him?"

"I don't want any bloodshed."

"So you expect him to respond to diplomacy?"

"He's capable of your power. That should be enough to persuade him to be reasonable."

"Or it will be enough for him to find a way to break your hold over me. Or find a way to make you surrender your power. He's been master of the dagger for many years now, and has faced threats to his power before. But let's say he goes quietly. If he's not ruling the country, who is? You?"

"Me? No, I have no wish for a throne!"

"So you know someone who can be relied upon to rule the country? Someone with experience? And when you end of the wars, what of the soldiers? Do you have ways for them to get home? Jobs to go to? Bands of armed and leaderless men far from home are not known for their gentle behaviour towards the peasants they encounter. When men are forced to live off the land, it is often a euphemism for pillaging."

Belle felt herself blanch.

Durza tilted his head to the side. "The king is summoning me."

"You can still feel the pull of the dagger?"

"Yes," he whispered, "although it has lost its sting."

That could prove to be very useful. "Does he want you to bring me to him?"

"He does. It's a malicious thought."

"We should go to him. Wait!" she called as he took a rough hold of her arm and thew cloud of magic began to swirl around them. When the sensation of being forced into a bottle retreated, Belle tried to find the force needed to issue a command. "I would ask you to be more gentle with my person."

He took her hand and gently tucked it through his elbow, as if they were a courting couple on a promenade.

"I can't go to the king with my dress unlaced," Belle added.

She expected to feel the pull of his magic, but instead he bid her turn and remove her shawl. His fingers were warm against her skin, but they did not linger and he pulled at the laces, securing her inside.

"We'll need to collect my clothes when we are in the capital. And I want the fire back in my room. In the grate," she added. "I would like the same measures taken for my comfort that you took when I lived here before. Please."

The fire burst into life in the hearth close to where they stood. Light filled the room. Belle hadn't realised just how dimly lit the place had been before.

"The king can't know that his hold over you is broken. I want him think he is secure in his power for as long as possible. I need to speak with my father before we do anything rash."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suchadearie prompted: Do they return to court? If so, how is she received as the wife of the Shade? And how feels King George about the fact that Durza hasn't ripped her to shreds?

It had been less than a twenty-four hours since Belle had left the capital, yet everything had changed. Yesterday, she had been a hostage and a pawn in the king's latest intrigue. Today she returned as a married woman, mistress of the most feared sorcerer in all of Misthaven and co-conspirator in a plot to undermine the king (even if her husband wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic of schemers). Technically, the tides of power had turned in her direction, yet Belle had never felt more lost.

Tricking the king into ordering her marriage to the Shade had been one task, insurmountable as it had seemed at the time. Using her power of Durza to settle the fate of the nation while ensuring her family's safety and somehow keeping both her soul and her sanity intact were quite simply beyond her.

They arrived in a cloud of red smoke in the large, airy atrium with its colourful birds. The parakeets were stirred into a frenzy by their arrival, screeching in the rafters and flitting from perch to perch in a flurry of brightly hued feathers.

"Ah, Durza."

The voice was relaxed, almost drawling, but there was no mistaking the coldness that filled both it and the speaker. Belle's gaze flew to the raised dais at the end of the hall to where King George was lounging almost lazily in a heavy, carved chair, something almost like a smile on his lips.

The hand at her elbow was abruptly withdrawn as Durza took a step towards the king, leaving Belle alone and exposed. She took a half step towards him before she remember that she was not supposed to see him as a source of comfort and tried to pass her misstep off as a stumble. She need not have bothered however, as the king's eyes were fixed upon her husband, all trace of humour gone.

"Sorry to interrupt your honeymoon." His voice was quiet, but Belle could see the hard set of his jaw. The fingers of her left hand flexed involuntarily, curling in towards her wedding ring. The gold seemed to pulse, as if resentful of Durza's show of loyalty to his former master.

Perhaps the small movement caught his eye, for King George's gaze flicked to where she stood, cold and appraising. Belle was conscious of her rumpled clothes, especially the creases in her heavy skirt, and she felt her face begin to burn as she guessed the direction of his thoughts. While she wasn't ashamed of what she had done, what she had shared with Durza was too new, too delicate to bear up to the scrutiny of others.

"Although," the king continued, "the girl looks remarkably… intact."

Ahead of her, Durza shrugged, sending his extraordinary hair rippling about his shoulders. It was hard to tell from the back of his head, but Belle thought he looked completely disinterested in the whole affair. "You ordered no lasting damage," he reminded him.

At that, King George threw his head back and laughed. There was a smattering of laughter from around the hall, some sycophantic, some bawdy, and Belle looked around. Some courtiers were present, but more numerous by far were the black robes and dour expressions of the king's clerics. Amongst all the black, however, was the soft dun robes of the lowland orders, and Belle felt her heart sink as she recognised Friar Aaron familiar form. There was no other friendly face in the crowd.

"Perhaps we have been worrying for no reason," George murmured. "There really is no man left beneath those scars, is there?"

It took a moment for Belle to catch his meaning, but somehow the insinuation that her marriage to the Shade remained unconsummated – and Durza's indifferent reaction to the charge – hurt her, almost as much as his current indifference to her, feigned or not. The feeling that she was wildly beyond her depth was rising quickly within her breast and it was only the fact that she had no idea where her father might be that stopped her from rescinding her order to Durza there and then, and demanding that he return to her side.

"You know, one of the clerics came to me with a story about you," the king continued. "He worried that an oath sworn in front of god, even in a service administered by a dissident priest, might weaken the hold of the dagger."

Belle was certain that her heart ceased to beat in the long silence that followed.

There had been no time to plan, no time to discuss possible scenarios with Durza or seek the council of her father or even of Morag. Of _course_ the king or his advisors would see through her plan; Durza had, after all.

Just like that, Belle could see everything slipping through her fingers.

But the king had not finished speaking. "Looking at you now," he added slowly, his attention firmly back on the Shade, dismissing Belle from his notice, "I think he was wrong. But still, I want proof your continued loyalty." He waved a careless hand in Friar Arran's direction and murmured, "Kill the priest."

"What? No!" Belle cried out, rushing to her husband's side. She clutched at his arm and found him as unyielding as stone.

He graced her with a glance before returning his attention to the king. "Apparently wife does not wish it."

King George tutted. "To whom do you belong?"

The world seemed to tilt and Belle gripped at her husband's sleeve. "Durza, please!"

Belle didn't even see him move, but like everyone else in the hall, she heard the snap as his magic snapped the Friar's neck.

"I obey the dagger," he hissed, shaking Belle loose. She sank to the floor, her heavy skirts settling around her in a cloud.

"And who wields the dagger?" the king pressed his voice indistinct, as if he was speaking from a great distance.

Durza seemed to buckle slightly as if being slowly forced to his knees. As Belle blinked against the gathering gloom, it seemed to her as if he was being folded into something resembling a crude bow. The king, she supposed, inflicting some silent order upon him.

But that couldn't be possible.

Could it?


End file.
